Cycles in Cantonese_Daniella_Coming to Terms_A Morning Routine
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Cycles in Cantonese
Long ago, America was duped into a controversial law enforcement program in which certain people in positions of power were allowed to keep tabs on children, sometimes as young as infants, and intentionally lead them down a path of crime so that they can be fast-tracked into a system where they are under the control of an invisible arm of the government for their entire lives without any trial or reasonable chance for appeal. The unconstitutional “Minotaur Program” is polarizing to say the least. As torrential needles spill tragically from a black sky, one of these overzealous government offic...
Daniella
Somewhere in the scorching sands of the Sahara lies an oasis named Daniella. With a gentle sparkling top of blue barricaded by green, she’s a beauty. A blessing. And the very thing that Ivan had been seeking for the past three months of his life. His days would go something like this: rise with the sun, walk underneath it, stop to drink from his thinning thermos, continue his march, and when the sun had finally set, he’d sink to the ground and pray for the entire night that this would be the last day of his suffering. He wouldn’t even dare to say His name; he just folded his hands together, ...
Coming to Terms
Never did his hands feel this way. Soft, gentle to the touch where she expected a strong, callous rubbing in her palms. His hands represented so much of who he was. A brash, cavalier type of gentleman. She loved him for it. For it was this brashness that brought him into her life. Yet it was this brashness that pushed him out of it too.She remembered seeing him for the first time. It was dark out, past dinner but not past midnight. Cool air and traces of mist flirted amongst the streetlights and the damp asphalt let off a long day's exhaust. She walked along the street with her girlfriend. Th...
A Morning Routine
The piano keys felt like ice cubes on Henry’s fingers. It was a sensation he had grown used to with time, like stepping out of a hot morning shower in a cold house. He needed to warm up, but as the keys had reminded him, so did the piano. An antique mahogany spinet piano took only a gentle touch. They had been learning about each other for the last six years, starting on Henry’s fifth birthday, when www.onedoor.ccthis one made its first appearance. A piano for the brothel, his father had called it at the time. Henry hadn’t known what that meant, and still didn’t know now. But from the way his mother reacted...